


Grace and Poise

by JackTrades



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackTrades/pseuds/JackTrades
Summary: Dean realized that there were special people out there that could see an angel's true form.  He never expected the way he would react when he met one of them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nonexistenz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/gifts).



> Prompt:  
> "Like Cas once said "special people can perceive an angels true visage." It's probably very rare. So what if they do meet someone who can do that? See the angel part? See his wings and halo? Staring, maybe asking to touch them? Ha, that just screams for jealous Dean, doesn't it?"
> 
> The request also asked to not give spoilers for seasons 10 - 12. This is AU/Canon Divergence starting in season 9.

Castiel would always be grateful that his brother, Gadreel, decided to not be lead astray by Metatron. Gadreel had shown a level of critical thinking that Castiel envied on some level. Metatron’s mistake was ordering the execution of the Prophet, Kevin Tran. Gadreel had a lack of exposure to the rank and file after so many years in captivity. Murdering an innocent was not in what God had planned, not from Gadreel’s recollection anyway. 

This resulted in the confession that Gadreel, and Dean, had knowingly lied to Sam for months. Gadreel revealed this himself before Metatron could follow through with his threats to tell Sam himself. He insisted that Sam could be physically well enough to survive on his own for a few hours before he returned to continue to heal Sam from another vessel. He was strong enough to be on his own now but feared for Sam’s well being. He was perplexed by his dedication to healing this human. 

When he inquired about this odd behavior with Castiel, Castiel flatly responded, “It is a slippery slope to falling.” 

Gadreel was unsure why that mattered anymore since they all had fallen already.

* * *

Months of trial and error passed before they were able to retake Heaven from Metatron’s control. Gadreel readily scarified himself in order to stop Metatron, an act he considered his redemption. Castiel would have done it himself; having failed to protect Dean and once again losing Heaven, but his stolen Grace had faded too much to be an effective weapon. When Gadreel reappeared in the Bunker after their encounter with Metatron, fully powered, the only one more shocked than Castiel was Gadreel himself. 

Castiel became grateful to have Gadreel’s assistance as they worked with Sam to track Dean down. Castiel hated himself for being so consumed with his own problems that he did not see the dark path that Dean was going down. Sure, he had warned Dean of the dangers of the Mark of Cain, but how could he let his power drain to the point that he could no longer see Dean’s soul? At the time, Castiel attributed his feelings to becoming more human… the day he could not clearly see the souls of humans was the day he felt human sorrow. It was crippling. It made him redouble his efforts to find his own Grace as soon as they recovered Dean.

* * *

Vanquishing Dean’s demons was not as straightforward as Castiel had hoped. Thankfully, they were able to keep him at bay until Castiel and Gadreel successfully recovered Castiel’s Grace. At least they had enough bodies among Sam, Castiel, Kevin, and Gadreel to take shifts policing Dean as he continued to complain that the Bunker was too crowded and insist that he was fine.

* * *

Dean had already had it with the Men of Letters Bunker becoming inhabited with ‘strays’ when Gadreel started spending more time in Sam’s room. Alone. Those times would lead to Castiel and Kevin having to contain him to the facility. Dean insisted that it was not the Mark causing his behavior; just the deep-rooted need to not be stuck in one place for too long. He needed to be out on the road, not cooped up there against his will. Castiel often had more success than Kevin at talking Dean into staying, but Dean told himself that is because he did not want to fight Castiel now that he had his mojo back. They let him leave if he found a legitimate case to work… so he guessed he could be grateful for that. 

Dean was becoming used to his relative captivity in the Bunker though. He still felt the need clawing in him to hunt and kill anything that went after civilians. Now he was not as confident he did not fall into that category himself, not with that Mark still on his arm and whispering in his mind all the time. He also felt claustrophobic with so many people here. At this point, he was lucky if he got twenty minutes in the communal bathroom alone to rub one out. Forget getting off in his bedroom. If he were gone for too long and not snoring, banging on the door and inquiries would interrupt him. Picking up a willing partner to share a bed with? Yeah right. No one was capable of that with the merry band of cockblocks that he had keeping him in check. Not even the great Dean Winchester. He kept telling himself that his bad attitude was being caused by orgasm deficit. 

Dean awoke on a dreary Thursday morning and was dismayed to see that it was only 7:15. It was bad enough that he was confined. Now his body would not even let him sleep. He retrieved his long grey robe from his closet and slid on his slippers. He cannot be bothered to cinch the robe. Why bother being modest if he was grounded, right? The others would have to deal with him in his undershirt and boxer briefs. If it were less drafty in the place, Dean would consider sauntering around naked just to torture the others. 

He padded down the hallway with his hands in his pockets towards the kitchen. Much to his chagrin the coffee pot had only enough liquid left for a quarter mug. He groaned and drank it before starting a new pot. He disposed of the grinds and huffed as he refilled the water. He glared at it as it slowly dripped away. He greedily dumped it into his mug when the amount in the pot looked like it was enough. Let Sam complain about the drips that burned onto the coffee maker when he got back. If he did not want that to happen, Sam should have made sure that the pot was not empty. 

Dean made his way to the map room when he was nearly taken out by the whoosh of a solid object. He was shocked to feel a second whoosh and nearly toppled over Charlie as she appeared through a previously nonexistent door. Dean certainly had not jumped back and screamed, that would have been embarrassing. She managed to wearily throw up a peace sign and huffed out, “What’s up, bitches?” just before she collapsed to the ground. Dean burned his hand with his coffee as he lunged forward to break her fall. 

He shouted for help assuming the Bunker’s occupants would come running. 

Gadreel was first to arrive at Dean’s side. He helped Dean get her to their makeshift medical room. Dean insisted, “Fix her!” as soon as he was certain that she was not going to fall off the chair he placed her in. 

Gadreel frowned and spoke with a clinical tone, “She appears to be hexed with a very complex spell. My efforts may cause more harm than good.” 

“What kind of spell!” Dean spat back. 

Gadreel squinted at her and answered, “I am afraid I am unfamiliar with many spells. This matter would probably be best left to Castiel for assessment. He left this morning but should return by tomorrow evening.” 

Dean quipped, “Great. Thanks for nothing, Poindexter. I will call Cas and search out spells to help her.” He reached to dig into his pocket for his cell phone before remembering that he was in his underwear and his pants and phone are in another room on the other side of the Bunker. 

Sam overheard the last part of the exchange as he entered to see the source of the commotion. He came from the bathroom; he had wet hair and his shirt was not buttoned yet to prove it. Sam scolded, “Dean!” Dean glared in response. He was about to shove past Sam to storm out of the room. Sam steeled himself and returned the glare. Sam reached behind him and slammed the door shut without breaking eye contact. It was a clear sign to Dean that Sam would not be letting him leave without apologizing. That was not going to happen if Dean had a say. 

Charlie let out a huge gasp, as if she had been holding her breath under water, breaking the tension between the two. Now both rushed to her side. She sucked in a breath and sat straight up with wide eyes. The brothers stopped in their tracks as she unconsciously muttered, “Merry Christmas,” and blinded the haze away. She caught the brothers and looked confused, “Sam? Dean? How did I get back here?” 

Sam shrugged and looked at Dean. Dean gaped for a moment before answering, “The hell if I know… you fell through a wall that didn’t have a door…” 

“One minute I was in Oz, fighting the witch with Dorothy when –“ Charlie stopped mid-sentence as she caught a glimpse of Gadreel out of the corner of her eye. She turned and stared in fascination. 

Sam approached her and waved a hand in front of her, “When, what? Charlie?” 

Charlie continued to stare stunned. Dean piped up, “Hey, Gad… you mind giving an assessment because it looks like staring at you shorted her mind out.” 

Gadreel huffed, “I did nothing to cause this. I specifically did not touch her out of fear that I would do more ha-“ 

“Oh my God!” Charlie shouted at Gadreel, “What are you? WHO are you?” She stood up in awe, reached a hand out and petted the air in front of her. Sam was going from confused to concerned. 

Dean crossed from concerned to weirded out, “You on some sort of otherworldly LSD right now or something?” 

Gadreel chuckled to himself and muttered, “I know what is wrong.” 

He flinched slightly and Charlie jumped back, nearly toppling over the chair, “Whoa!” She leaned forward again with even more fascination on the dead air between them. 

Dean threw his hands up in disgust, “Okay, what the hell is going on?” 

Gadreel explained, “It is said that certain, special humans are able to perceive a celestial beings’ true forms. Based on your friend’s reaction, I would say that is what she is experiencing. Has she encountered an angel before?” The brothers shrugged. “Then it is unclear if she had this ability to start with or if a spell is the cause.” 

There was a small tap on the door followed by Kevin tentatively asking, “Guys? Is everything okay in there or do I need to start warding the hallway?” 

Dean walked over to the door and swung it open, “No need for extra warding but we are gonna need your academic skills to help fix –" 

“That’s so cool!” Charlie leapt from the chair and grabbed Kevin’s face. She waved a hand above his head like it was passing through a stream. 

Dean took a step back, “Kid, you are really starting to freak me out.” 

Gadreel interjected, “Your friend is seeing the sign that we do.” 

Sam asked, “What sign?” 

Gadreel elaborated, “Kevin Tran is the Prophet. All Prophets are ordered to be protected by angels and have an archangel ordered to watch him or her fulltime. What your friend is seeing is just the concentration of energy to alert our attention to him. He entered the room under distress; it should subside shortly.” 

Dean’s frustration boiled over, “So Charlie is seeing some Holy homing beacon over his head because he was stressed out. Great. This is just great.” He stormed out of the room and shouted, “I am hitting the books to figure out how to fix her!” 

* * *

The next day Dean’s aggravation gave way to relief that Charlie seemed to be otherwise fine. He could not muster the energy to be annoyed at that there was another body in the Bunker because he always had a soft spot for her. She was like an annoying kid sister to go with his annoying kid brother. 

After a few hours, Charlie became used to seeing things but had fewer outbursts about it. She talked with Gadreel for hours about what she was seeing. Dean snickered when she pointed out that Gadreel’s wings fluffed up when Sam was in the room and Gadreel scurried off embarrassed. 

Sam’s curiosity got the better of him and he asked Charlie what Gadreel’s Grace looked like. She described it as swirling blue patterns and his wings were a darker, almost black, contrast among it. She noted that Gadreel’s wings somehow indicated his mood and comfort level, citing the behavior of a pair of birds she once played pet-sitter to. 

When Gadreel returned, Sam seemed more affectionate towards him. Charlie squeaked and told Dean that, apparently the wings wrap around Sam when he is close enough to reach. She thought it was cute; Dean thought it was gag-worthy. 

By lunchtime, Dean was ready to pause his research in favor of getting Charlie fed. He made burgers for them and they ate in the map room. Dean sat facing the door while Charlie sat facing the hallway. They traded hunting stories to pass the time. Charlie became fascinated with the Mark and declared that she would find a way to get it off of him. The distinct creak of the metal door alerted them of Castiel’s return. 

“Welcome back, buddy,” Dean yelled up the stairs, “You may have to bunk with Gadreel since we got another house guest while you were gone.” 

Castiel flatly responded, “I do not require sleep, Dean. I will find a way to occupy myself while others sleep.” 

Dean stood up and introduced, “You guys haven’t met before. Charlie meet Cas. Cas meet Charlie.” 

Castiel smiled as Charlie turned around, “Good to meet y-“ 

“Oh my God!!” Charlie jumped back. 

Castiel frowned. Dean added, “Charlie showed up yesterday whammied and now she can see all your celestial stuff… sorry, I should have warned you about that.” 

Charlie blurted out, “Wow, your wings are so much more badass looking than Gadreel’s.” Castiel flinched. She babbled, “I’m sorry. That was rude.” She turned to Dean, “Is it rude to talk about their wings? I don’t know these things.” 

Dean felt a pang of jealousy bubbling up, “How would I know? I can’t see them unless he… what do you call it, Cas? ‘Manifests’ them.” 

Castiel answered, “You have seen them before, Dean.” 

Charlie asked, “Doesn’t this place have some angel etiquette book laying around? Sorry, I will shut up now.” She left the room and retreated to the library. 

Dean took a deep breath to calm himself. All he could think about was Charlie seeing Castiel, the real Castiel, and wanting to see it himself. It was like she was seeing him naked or something. Dean could care less about her seeing Gadreel but Castiel was a different story. Castiel was his angel. He had no idea where all these feelings were coming from. He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a concerned, “Dean?” from Castiel. 

Dean forced a laugh and slapped Castiel on the shoulder, “Glad you’re back. Are you hungry? I made burgers and we have got enough for more…”

* * *

Dean was not going to talk about it, certainly not with Sam. Sam was the one yammering on about it to him. Sam went on about how at first he was jealous of Charlie but Gadreel had made him feel better about it. Charlie could see Gadreel’s Grace but not feel it. That perplexed Dean. He had no idea what Sam was talking about. He assumed it was a vessel thing and made a mental note to ask Castiel later. 

Opportunity struck later that night after the others had gone to bed. Dean scanned all the channels on television twice before settling on late night reruns of Dragonball Z. Castiel had joined him on the couch in their living room. Dean started on a commercial break, “Hey, Cas, Sam told me that he can feel Gadreel’s Grace. Why is that? Is it because he was Gadreel’s vessel?” Dean shifted and added, “I mean… you heal me and I feel a weird tingling but it is only like a split second. Is it possible to do that for longer?” 

Castiel let out an annoyed sigh, “I told Gadreel that is inappropriate and dangerous.” Dean gave him a concerned look and Castiel clarified, “An angel can touch a human’s soul. However, prolonged touching especially during…” 

Dean gagged, “Didn’t need that mental image, Cas!” 

Castiel continued despite his annoyance, “Angels and humans are not supposed to copulate regardless – although I suppose the dire consequences are not there when both the vessel and human are of the same sex – but touching a soul with Grace for too long runs the risk of bonding that soul to your Grace. Angels are not supposed to acquire souls in that way. We guard souls; we do not collect them.” 

Dean flopped back on the couch and groaned, “Great! Yet another thing for me to worry about.” 

Castiel apologized, “I am sorry, Dean.” 

Dean huffed, “It’s not your fault that Sam is an idiot. I’ll lecture him in the morning. If I go do it now, I’ll probably walk in on that copulating you were talking about.” 

Castiel flatly stated, “You are correct about that.” 

Dean yelled, “Ugh! It was an expression. I didn’t need confirmation.”

* * *

The following morning Dean was greeted by a gloriously full pot of coffee in the kitchen. He may have to insist that they keep Charlie. She doesn’t leave an empty pot while Dean sleeps. 

Dean found her in the library pouring over books of angel lore. Dean silently cheered her with his mug and nodded with a mouth full of coffee. He swallowed and declared, “You are the only one out of these ingrates that makes sure I have coffee waiting.” 

Charlie laughed, “I would say ‘thank you’ except that Sam made that pot for me when I asked…” Dean gave her a skeptical look. She added, “Fine. I told him to make it because I knew you would be up soon.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow, “How’d you know that?” 

Charlie blushed and stammered, “Oh, just a lucky guess.” 

Dean pressed, “Don’t lie to me, Charlie. Something is up. Spill.” 

She stood up and placed her hands lightly on his upper arms, “Fine, but you have to promise not to get mad.” Dean begrudgingly nodded. “So you remember yesterday, I said Gadreel’s mood was apparent from his wings. Then we laughed about how he preens like a peacock when Sam is around…” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well, when Castiel saw you yesterday he did the same thing. I watched him for the rest of the day and he perks up when you are around. They twitch towards you but don’t really touch you when you are by him.” 

Dean rolled his eyes, “I think you’re reading too much into this.” 

Charlie continued, “The reason I thought you were awake this morning is that I saw his wings perk up again. They were completely relaxed and folded against his back before that.” 

Dean sighed, “You’re being ridiculous.” 

Charlie crossed her arms, “Ask Gadreel then. He would know for sure.” 

Dean gave her a look, “I will ask him, but only to prove you wrong.”

* * *

“Dean, when Castiel completed his mission to get you out of Hell,” Gadreel paused to choose his next words carefully, “his declaration was as loud as the archangels’ battle cries. It shook Heaven. I had not heard anything like that in a long time. Saving you… it does more for him than give him purpose.” 

Dean deflected, “Yeah right. You just like to read into it because you’re a sap.” 

Gadreel grabbed his arm lightly; “I heard everything on the so-called Angel Radio from my cell. Castiel’s orders were clear: lead the garrison to Hell and retrieve you before you broke the first seal. He could have left you when he realized that he had failed. He did not.” Gadreel smiled, “Instead he carried you out of there and stitched you back together with his Grace. I had a chance to see your soul before…” he unconsciously glanced down at the Mark on Dean’s arm. Dean yanked his arm away and rolled his sleeve to cover it in self-conscious response. “A soul that spent time in Hell should not look like yours did. It should not shine so beautifully. It is unclear if he did that when he brought you back or if he did it over time as he watched over you. Castiel has always been meticulous but he was not required to put that level of care into piecing you together. It is as close as humans can equate to love and dedication.” 

Dean wanted to spit out a denial but a nagging question ate away in the pit of his stomach, “You said you saw my soul before the Mark… what does it look like now?” 

Gadreel stiffened. That was all the answer Dean needed. He left the room to search out every drop of alcohol they had in the place. Maybe if the universe stopped constantly kicking him in the teeth, he could at least black out the last few minutes and not have to consciously know that Castiel could see how tainted his soul had become.

* * *

Castiel knocked on the door of Dean’s room several hours later. Dean was enjoying his stupor but Castiel was concerned about his health. He pressed a finger to Dean’s forehead and removed the intoxication. 

Dean griped, “You’re a buzzkill, you know that?” 

Castiel inquired, “Why are you drunk in the middle of the day?” 

Dean spat out, “Trying to forget some information that I would rather forget. Now I am just gonna have to start over and hope for the best.” He grabbed a half full bottle of whiskey from the top of his nightstand. 

Castiel looked at him, “Dean, what is wrong? I could pull it from your mind but I would rather not.” 

Dean glared, “You said you wouldn’t spy on my brain anymore.” Castiel said nothing. They stared at each other for longer than necessary before Dean broke eye contact and rushed through his response, “Trying to forget that I am a screw up that doesn’t get to see or feel the real you.” 

“Dean?” Castiel turned his head in confusion. 

Dean continued, “Kevin was supposed to get Heaven Secret Service protection. Charlie gets to see celestial beings. Sam gets to ‘feel Grace’ – whatever the hell that means. Then there’s me. Dirty and tainted –“ 

“That is not true, Dean!” 

Dean ripped his sleeve up and flashed the Mark at Castiel, “Yes! It is. Gadreel didn’t say so but he didn’t have to.” 

Castiel sat on the bed next to Dean. “If he said or implied that, he is a bigger fool than I estimated him to be… I was serious when I told you that Grace touching your soul is dangerous.” 

Dean took a swig of whiskey and added, “I am not good enough for you to do that to anyway.” He attempted to leave but Castiel grabbed him from behind: slightly smaller frame pressed to Dean’s back with his arms wrapped over Dean’s chest. His right hand gripped Dean’s left shoulder enough to hurt. 

Dean struggled in his grip, “Let me go, Cas!” 

Castiel tightened his hold, “I know you do not remember this, but I will remember it for the rest of my existence… I found you in Hell. You were a tattered and abused soul that was abandoned. Gripped you tight – just like this – and raised you from there. From that moment it was more than a mission for me, Dean.” Dean stiffened in Castiel’s grip and Castiel relaxed his hold. Dean could walk away if he wanted to. Instead Dean relaxed back into Castiel. 

Castiel dropped his arms and Dean frantically grasped his hand and placed it back on his left shoulder. Dean stammered out, “I want you to put it back.” 

Castiel was confused by the request, “Dean?” 

Dean kept his hand over Castiel’s and looked over his shoulder at Castiel, “Your hand print… I want you to put it back.” 

Dean could swear that Castiel blushed before he sternly replied, “I do not know if the Mark will allow that. Even without it, as I have told you, this is dangerous to try. There are reasons this is against the rules…” 

Dean laughed hysterically at that, “Since when have you followed the rules?” 

Castiel sighed, “… increasingly less over time since the moment I met you.” 

Dean had no idea if that was supposed to be a compliment or not, but he was going to take it as one. Dean gripped his hand again, “Please.” Everything he could possibly say, every emotion he ever felt, poured out in that one word. 

Castiel nodded, “We can try but sit in a chair or lay in bed. There is a possibility that this will hurt or you will pass out.” 

Dean chose the bed. He sat on the edge then ran a hand through his hair nervously, “How do you want me for this?” 

Castiel was momentarily flustered. He composed himself quickly, “If you wish for it to be the same as it was before, I should be behind you. I am not sure how this should work…” 

Dean’s brain picked up where Castiel’s left off. He scooted forward on the bed and patted behind him, “You sit here and I will lean against you. That way if it goes sideways I won’t keel over.” 

Castiel gave him a skeptical look but complied. They arranged themselves so Castiel leaned back against the headboard with Dean between his legs. He wrapped his right hand over Dean’s chest and gripped his shoulder, “Are you sure?” Castiel had to check one more time. Dean nodded. Castiel warned, “When I did this the first time it was a mistake while I was in my true form. I don’t know how this will go… it may hurt. Whatever you do, just promise me you will keep your eyes shut.” 

Dean pressed his eyes closed tightly. He braced himself. He felt that familiar weird tingle from when Castiel would heal him. The tingle gave way to burning, then pain. Dean bit his lip to muffle the grunt that escaped his lips. He was resigned to this being yet another thing that was a bad idea and he talked Castiel into it anyway. He was not expecting the pain to turn. Without warning, the pain changed over to what Dean could only equate with pure ecstasy. 

It took Dean several shouts to realize he was screaming Castiel’s name. Then it was done. The sudden change made him feel like he was going to black out. He vaguely heard Castiel saying his name in concern and shaking him. After a few more seconds, the dampness in his jeans and the raw feeling on his body registered. 

Castiel shook him again, “Dean!” 

Dean hoarsely replied, “That… was intense.” He lulled his head to the side and saw the hand print welling up on his arm, red and angry looking. He looked down and chuckled, “Congrats, Cas. You are the first person to make me come in my jeans in at least twenty years.” 

Castiel blushed and stammered, “That was not my intention!” 

Dean rolled over and sat back on his knees between Castiel’s legs, “I didn’t say that was a bad thing.” 

This was it: the point of no return. Castiel always knew it would eventually come to this. He threw caution to the wind and closed the gap between them. He pressed his lips to Dean’s in a soft, light kiss. Dean responded in kind, pulling Castiel closer and deepening it. He drank up Castiel’s satisfied groan with pride. 

They parted and exchanged a confused, nervous glance before Dean awkwardly laughed. He pulled Castiel back in for a quick kiss. He meant for it to be one. Then he got greedy and stole three more. He pulled back and stared into the angel’s eyes. “Cas,” Dean asked softly, “What does this mean for us?” 

Castiel smiled, “I don’t know… but we will figure it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope my giftee is happy with the work. You gave me three fantastic prompts to work with!
> 
> Feedback from all is always appreciated.


End file.
